Guiding Light
by quokka
Summary: Episode tag to Newborn King; Tony sees the light and shows up at Ziva's bearing gifts


**A/N:** Another one for Tiva fic amnesty. Started writing this ages ago, every time I tried to finish I got stuck trying to come up with a decent ending. Time to give up and let go.

Tiva fluff, sort of an episode tag to Newborn King, but honestly, I don't remember much of that episode or the timeline, so apologies if something is off.

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Juggling two hot beverages behind his back, he knocked on Ziva's door. He should've called first, he thought, wishing she'd open the door already, his mouth going drier with every passing second. Three more raps on her door and he heard faint footsteps heading towards him. He put on his trademark smile and leaned closer to the peephole. She'd roll her eyes, he didn't actually need to see her to know. And that was why he was here, after all, on Christmas Day, because he knew her. Just, not quite the way he wanted to know her.

The door finally opened, and it was obvious from her peeved expression she wasn't entirely pleased to see him. "We have another case, already?"

His stomach clenched and smile faltered at her cranky tone; this wasn't going as planned. And he'd been thinking about how this would go since last night. More like early this morning, really, after they had gotten back to the Navy Yard, with Wendy's invitation, the newborn baby, Jimmy's approaching wedding, and, well, the holiday spirit heavy on his mind. It was like a light bulb had started flickering and he was finally seeing things more clearly, more brightly.

He'd needed some more cajoling before the flickering bulb turned into a lighthouse, shining the path he had wanted to walk down for a long time. Gibbs had played a huge part in that—and he probably wouldn't be too happy with the direction he had unwittingly steered his SFA. But that didn't really matter, he thought as a smile crept on his lips once more.

"Tony?" Ziva waved a hand in front of his face. "How much eggnog did you have?" She scowled.

He continued smiling like an idiot, and realized he probably should've said something by now.

"Do we have a case or not?" The crankiness in her voice made way for exhaustion. Desperation, even. Which was entirely understandable after the night they had had, not to mention the beating she had taken.

His smile wavered once more; that had been one big Russian. He should keep a close eye on her. He'd accepted her trademark "I'm fine", too preoccupied with Wendy's Christmas card and his future, but he'd read her preliminary report and knew she would have, at the very least, some serious bruising.

Ziva let out an impatient sigh, then stepped aside, silently inviting him into her apartment.

He was rooted to the spot, though, looking her up and down, wishing he had X-ray vision—not like that, not this time, anyway—to detect any sign of injury or pain.

"I thought you would be at Wendy's." She raised her eyebrows slightly at his odd behavior.

He breathed out a laugh and shook his head, then met her gaze. The fatigue seemed to fade from her eyes, and was replaced with curiosity and something indefinable. For a brief moment he was worried he looked like a lovesick teenager. He certainly had trouble finding the right words.

"What's that smell?" She lifted her chin and sniffed the air as her eyelids dropped halfway.

The flutter he had been feeling all day increased tenfold as a small smile graced her lips. He removed his right hand from behind his back, holding out two cups of warm, chocolaty goodness.

She gave him a suspicious look. "Is everything alright?"

"Can't a guy drop by to see how his partner's doing after taking down two assassins?"

She narrowed her eyes, and he was struck by how he hadn't been able to fool her in what felt like forever.

"That is not why you are here."

His mouth went dry again, he'd need to drink some of that sugary sweetness before he could delve into that one. Maybe add some rum to his cup, as well.

"You ask for hot chocolate, I deliver." He waved the cups under her nose, prompting her to take them from him.

Ziva walked towards the couch and sat down. He followed, feeling like a puppy desperate for attention, and sat down next to her. She stared at him for a moment, then looked at the drinks she was holding. Another smile appeared on her lips as she read the name on one of the cups, and honestly, he would never tire of making her smile.

"Elf?" she said with a chuckle and locked eyes with him.

"Call me Santa's little helper."

"Tony, no," she said in mock-disgust, handing him his drink. She leaned back against the couch, removing the lid from her own cup.

Seeing her eyes light up at the tiny marshmallows in the steaming hot liquid, Tony decided he had to learn how to make hot chocolate from scratch. The good stuff, with the real chocolate. Maybe, he could serve it with breakfast, hopefully someday soon.

But then a hint of worry crossed through her mirth, and she said, "You have been uncharacteristically quiet." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she briefly looked down at her drink. "Did you talk to Wendy, at all?"

"No." He sipped from his drink, needing a moment to gather his thoughts. "No, I went to Gibbs, instead." He placed his left arm on the back of the couch, the temptation to play with her hair, so teasingly close to his fingers, almost getting the better of him. "We had an interesting conversation, about work and family and cups." Judging by the look on Ziva's face, that had only caused more worry and confusion. "I always thought that being a cop and having a family were mutually exclusive, you know."

Ziva shifted uncomfortably and took a big gulp from the hot chocolate.

A sense of calm and peace came over him as he admitted, "I now realize I can fill two cups."

She blinked rapidly and looked at the beverages they were both holding. "With…hot chocolate?"

The doubtful look she gave him made his heart melt. For someone who had a reputation of talking too much, he sure had trouble finding the right words. Then again, he often did when it came to matters of the heart.

"I'm not Gibbs, I can have a job and a family."

Ziva let out a breath and stared at the cup she was now clutching with both hands.

"Then why did you not go to Wendy's?"

"I did," he said and watched her shoulders slump. He was once again struck with how exhausted she looked, the chocolate infusion's effect already fading.

Her jaw clenched and brow furrowed as she peered into her cup of cooling chocolate. When she bit her bottom lip it dawned on him that she was misreading the conversation. "I never made it out of the car, I just needed some kind of closure, I guess." He waved his hand dismissively, almost spilling the hot chocolate he was still holding. He placed the cup on the table and sat on his leg so he could face her better.

Tony leaned closer, took the cup from her hands and placed it next to his. Wrapping his hands around hers, she finally met his gaze.

"I do not understand," she said with a slight shake of the head..

"That card…it was like a spotlight shining on everything I've been avoiding ever since Wendy dumped me. Everything that had gone wrong, everything I was too afraid to even hope might go right." Pausing briefly, he wished he had gone over exactly what to say. He could generally talk someone's ear off, but there was a lot riding on this

"Christmas…New Year…it's all about love and hope, isn't it." His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands. "And I want to be hopeful for the future. Everything that's happened the past few days has been like," he let out a chuckle at the imagery that popped into his mind, "like a star guiding me through the darkness."

Her brow furrowed and he briefly wondered whether she was having trouble catching up because she was so exhausted, or because she was afraid of getting hurt. He understood her fear of getting hurt all too well, it's why it had taken him this long to get here.

"Guide you where?" Her voice was unsure, almost timid.

He squeezed her hands reassuringly and couldn't keep the smile of his face when he replied confidently, "Here, with you."

Her eyes went wide, and for a moment he feared she would flee. Before driving over he had decided that they could remain friends, best friends, and partners, even if she didn't reciprocate his feelings. If she needed time, or simply reassurance that nothing would change if she didn't want it to, then he would give her that. Losing his best friend was simply not an option.

"It's okay if you don't feel-"

Her lips on his made him lose the ability to speak or think. All he could feel was his heart pounding in his chest, her soft, warm lips eagerly caressing his as her hands slipped from his and pulled him closer by his shirt. His hands drifted to her waist, then to her face as he deepened the kiss and the room seemed to start spinning around them.

He pulled back, touched his forehead to hers and inhaled deeply. The smell of chocolate hit him and he kissed her again, his mind focused on tasting the sugary sweetness on her lips. He smiled, then chuckled against her mouth, knowing without a doubt that for the next few weeks, every time he smelled or tasted hot cocoa he would be reminded of this very moment.

Staring deep into her eyes, he threaded his fingers through her hair, relishing in the softness.

"I was taught to never assume," he murmured and kissed her nose, "to always double check." He nudged her nose, and palmed the back of her head. "So, how do you really fe-"

Her lips bruised his as her hand slipped to the nape of his neck, fingers scratching and tugging at the short hairs there.

His whole body ached to close the remaining distance between them, to feel her heart beating against his chest, to run his hands all over her skin. Lifting the hem of her shirt with the hand still at her waist, he slipped his fingers underneath, gently tickling her side before running the palm of his hand up her spine and pulling her closer eagerly.

She flinched, hard, his heart stopped for just a beat.

He pulled back quickly, both hands now framing her face. "You said you were fine." Concern laced his voice and she glanced away, biting her lip.

"I am fine…and severely bruised."

Tony pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. He got carried away, should have remembered she couldn't have walked away from that fight without a scratch. He lowered his hands, slipping them gently down the side of her neck to her shoulders, intent on breaking contact completely—the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again—but dragging out touching her as long as possible, all the same.

Her hands gripped his wrists, grounding him, keeping him connected to her physically. "I will be sore for a couple of days, that's all." She smiled reassuringly. "And, I will avoid sleeping on my back." Her fingers caressed the insides of his wrists, wiping away some of his worries.

"Well," he said and hooked a finger into her shirt collar, "I distinctly remember you like being on top of me, so that won't be a problem."

She snorted, but went willingly when he pulled her closer by her collar as he reclined. As she positioned herself so they would both be comfortable, she peppered his neck and jawline with kisses.

The tension of the past few days drained from his body, and exhaustion set in. He closed his eyes, concentrating on how good it felt to have her so close, on knowing his leap of faith had paid off in the best way possible. And whatever the future had in store for them, he knew they would face it together.

A peck on his lips, then nothing but her warm breath on his face. He opened his eyes slowly to find her staring down at him, eyes full of love and hope. His heartbeat quickened, and it took him a moment to realize he could feel Ziva's heart beat at the same pace..

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merriest Christmas ever," he murmured before claiming her lips with his.

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Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!


End file.
